


Until we meet again

by footlooseandfancyfree



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Kid Fic, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Hale Fire, Reincarnation, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-15 08:06:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9226001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/footlooseandfancyfree/pseuds/footlooseandfancyfree
Summary: What do you do if your soul mate is taken away from you? Everything in your power to get them back, of course, damn the consequences.





	1. Chapter 1

** Until we meet again **

 

 

_“Our universe grants every soul a twin – a reflection of themselves – the kindred spirit._

_And no matter where they are or how far away they are from each other – even if they are in different dimensions, they will always find one another._

_This is destiny; this is love.” – Julie Dillon_

 

 

**1 Prologue**

 

_Once upon a time, a few hundred years ago, deep in the woods of a place now called Beacon Hills …_

 

It’s almost dawn, but not just yet. There is still an hour or two before the darkness fades away and the clearing is bathed in light, revealing everything, including the two people standing right in the middle of it.

On first glance it may like look that they are lost, but they aren’t.

No, they are here on purpose.

“I don’t think this is a good idea. Are you sure you want to do this?”

The girl’s voice trembles a bit, but it has nothing to do with the cold nip in the air. Sure, it would be a reasonable assumption. She is dressed in a simple cloth barely resembling a dress. She is barefoot, her long hair unkempt and straggly, smudges of dirt and dried blood covering pretty much every inch of her bare skin, including her face, and she is missing a few teeth too.

In a word – she looks pitiful.

But the young man standing next to the girl knows better than to underestimate her. She may have chosen a fragile vessel, a female body barely older than eight years, but she is far from weak. Even in this form she is a formidable force of nature. In fact, he would go so far and say that she is way more powerful than his is. True, she certainly doesn’t look like it except for the flickering light in her eyes, reminding him of fire, but she is part of his world too, a supernatural being.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he replies, his voice surprisingly steady despite the circumstances.

“It’s dangerous.” She cautions again, more forcefully than before. It’s obvious that she is concerned, but he isn’t swayed by her compassion. His mind is set.

“I know.”

“It will weaken you … considerably.”

“I know.”

“It might not even work.”

“I _know_.”

The girl huffs in exasperation. “There is really nothing I can do or say to change your mind, is there?”

“No, there isn’t,” the young man agrees, looking down at her. “You know why I have to do this. It’s the only way.”

“I get _why_ you are doing it,” she nods in understanding, “but binding your magic, your very essence to that feeble … seedling … it will probably kill you.”

She sounds sad, which is rather strange considering her occupation. Death shouldn’t bother her, no matter who is involved or what the circumstances are. But clearly right here and now she has deep reservations, which in retrospect isn’t that much of a surprise. They have known each other for years, ever since he lost his parents to some disease plaguing the area, and despite her reputation they’ve managed to form a friendship. He doesn’t fear her like other people do. In fact, he usually values her input, her guidance, no matter what form she is in, but not this time.

“I know that, but it’s called a sacrifice for a reason.” he points out. “And I don’t care if it kills me. I have nothing else to lose, not after …”

His voice is thick with emotion. He almost breaks down again, but thankfully he finds the strength to pull himself together before he falls back into the deep pit of despair. It’s not an easy task, but that’s to be expected. After all, he just watched his one true love, his soul mate, getting sliced up, practically gutted by a broad blade dipped in wolfsbane.

It’s been only a few hours since it happened. Of course he has trouble coping.

There was so much blood, the wound too deep for the wolf to heal himself or to get healed by magic. Needless to say the young man had tried everything in his power, exhausting himself to the point of losing consciousness, twice in a row, but all of his efforts were in vain. Nothing he tried had any effect whatsoever.

His lover was dead, gone for good.

Sure, the wolf’s death was quick. He barely suffered at all, but that’s the only good news. The pain of lose is still raw, gnawing at the young man. It’s literally eating him up from the inside, making it almost impossible to concentrate, but he _knows_ he can’t effort another meltdown.

Time is of the essence. His enemies are probably closing in. There is no time for grief or doubt. He has to act now or all will be lost.

“The spell I’m casting will ensure that I will be reborn again, that we both will be reborn again,” he explains to his friend, even though it’s probably redundant. Sure, she is not a sorcerer like him, but she is part of the supernatural world. She knows the rules. If you ask for a huge favor, you have to offer up something equally as big. And if that means giving up his magic, he is more than willing to do it. “True, it might take a few years, centuries perhaps, but we will be together again.”

“I understand what you are _trying_ to do,” the girl emphasizes, clearly not convinced by his plan. “But this is huge. Sacrificing your magic, binding your very life essence to another … living entity … it’s risky. Assuming it works, what happens in the meantime? Who will guard the tree if you are not here?”

“That’s why you are here.” the man retorts. “Guarding the tree will be your job.”

“In this form?” she scoffs, motioning down her frail body.

“You could always take another form; choose another vessel, a stronger one.” he suggests lightly. Of course, he knows it’s not that easy. She can’t just jump hosts whenever she wants to. It’s not how it works for her kind. The circumstances have to be right, but he needs her to play her part. “I know I can trust you with this.”

She doesn’t say anything for a very long time, a few minutes at least, just silently watching him as he prepares the last ingredients for the spell. In the end she realizes that he is hell-bent on going through with his plan, no matter what she says.

“Fine,” she grumbles. “My brothers are not going to like it, but what else is new? I’m a rebel, just like you. We always do things the way we think is best, for us and for the people we care about, even if it means breaking the major rules. I promise I will do my best to ensure that the tree grows up, stays safe and unharmed, keeping your power safe. But you know even in our world, everything is far from certain. Things can go wrong at any time ….”

“I’m aware of that.” the man replies, nonchalantly. Of course, he is aware that his efforts may be in vain and that there is a good chance it won’t work out the way he envisions to, but what other choice does he have? Spending the rest of his life in misery? Mourning his lose and die a bitter man? That’s out of the question. “Love means taking chances … and this is me doing just that.”

“Okay,” the girl finally relents, “Let’s get this over with.”

Granted, there isn’t much she can do right now, other than handing her friend the ingredients for the spell in the right order, but she does it without protest, for which he is grateful. He can tell that his concentration is waning fast, and he can’t afford any mistakes. One false step and the whole thing is going to backfire on him.

With his remaining strength the young man plunges a dagger dipped in his lover’s blood right into his own heart, whispering with his last breath, “Until we meet again, my love.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Peter …

_Three hundred and seven years, two months and 11 days later …_

 

The house is quiet.

It’s weird especially since it’s Friday and not even that late, just a little after eight, but it’s certainly not unwelcome.

Quite the opposite, actually.

As far as Peter is concerned it’s a fucking blessing.

Don’t take this the wrong way; Peter loves his pack, each and every one of them, including all of the kids. True, they are driving him up the wall with their constant whining more often than not, but still, it doesn’t change the fact. He is _very_ protective of his pack. If something should happen to anyone of them (god forbid) he wouldn’t hesitate to take his revenge, showing no mercy whatsoever. Most humans may frown upon that concept – an eye for an eye – but that’s just the thing. The Hales aren’t human. They are werewolves. Their instinct to protect and defend what’s theirs runs so much deeper; a fact that humans will never be able to fully comprehend.

But still, living in a house full of werewolves has its downsides.

Privacy, for one, is pretty much nonexistent, even in a house this big. But that’s a given, considering their enhanced senses of smell and hearing. Everyone always knows who is in the house and what they are doing.

 _Always_.

It’s anything but amusing, but something Peter has come to terms with over the years. The constant noise level, on the other hand, is not that easy to handle, at least not for him, which is why he often makes his escape roaming through the woods. Of course, he knows nobody believes him when he says he is doing it for the good of the pack, but at least no one gives him grief about it. And quite frankly it’s not a complete lie either. After all, someone has to pick up the slack. Sure, in general it’s the Alpha’s job to make sure the pack is safe from any threat, but given her demanding responsibility as a mother, there is no point to deny the truth. Talia is in desperate need of some assistance. Sure, Peter could always help out with the kids, but why would he? It’s more fun watching his sister and her husband wrestling to keep their children in check, especially when they are trying to put the smaller kids to bed. Trying being the operative word here. It’s probably hard for human parents too, but it’s a damn near challenge to convince a werewolf child it’s time for bed, especially around the full moon.

Curiously enough, Peter isn’t bothered (much) by Cora even though she is the youngest. Sure, she is curious, asking a lot of questions, but that’s normal for a five year old. No, it’s usually the teenage werewolves who make him grateful for not having kids of his own. Granted, _that_ may have something to do with the fact that he hasn’t found his mate yet (not that he has been actively searching) but even if he had, given the fact that he is gay, makes the whole procreation issue pretty much null and void. True, getting a male partner pregnant is not unheard of but it’s rare, _very_ rare. It usually involves magic, and a lot of it. And yes, there are still people around who like to dabble with magic, like their pack’s emissary for example, but none of them are true practitioners. In fact, as far as Peter knows, there aren’t any real sorcerers around anymore these days.

They’ve probably all died out years ago, or they are in hiding … but that’s not really the point here.

The point is that teenagers are a pain in the ass. And teenage werewolves, well, they are even worse. Rarely a day goes by without Derek and Laura driving Peter insane with their incessant bickering, or their raging hormones, which is why he is glad for the momentary reprieve.

Sure, the house is not completely empty. He can still hear his sister Talia rummaging around the kitchen, cleaning up the rest of the dinner, while his brother-in-law is helping Cora get ready for bed, but at least his annoying niece and nephew are gone for the weekend, visiting their uncle Jonas, Peter’s older brother, in San Francisco.

This is such a rare occasion.

Not just the peace and quiet, but the fact that Derek and Laura are out there on their own. Sure, technically speaking they aren’t _really_ on their own. They are with family and friends, but still, it doesn’t mean that Talia likes it. As a rule she tends to keep her family close at all times. It’s an Alpha thing. Well, actually, it’s more than that. The fact that his sister is pregnant again heightens that need considerably, but her children can be very persistent when they want things, especially Laura.

True, usually Peter would give his niece a piece of his mind; telling her that just because she is fifteen, it doesn’t mean she knows what she is doing, or how their world works. This time he wisely kept his mouth shut. He even volunteered to drive Laura and Derek to the airport, making sure they got on the plane on time, simply because he wanted to reap the benefits, no matter how short-lived they are. So sue him, if he (occasionally) lets his own desires overrule common sense. He is only half-human, after all, and quite frankly, he deserves a break.

Sure, theoretically speaking Peter has another choice. He could just do the same thing like his brother, move out and leave his pack, but he doesn’t want to. Being part of a pack is important, vital even. It grounds the wolf within, providing security as well as stability. Being on his own, while it would bring peace and quiet, would also mean he’d become an Omega. And that’s anything but a good idea. Some say that Peter is barely stable enough as it is, and there is probably some truth to it. Sure, he is smart and cunning, but it’s hard to dismiss the fact that he also has a very short temper on occasion. It’s not necessarily a bad thing for a wolf _within_ a pack, but for a _lone_ wolf … it’s pretty much disastrous.

Anyway, Talia says that he just needs a mate, but naturally Peter disagrees. While he can see the advantages – and there are certainly a few pleasurable perks – he can also see the negative aspect.

Having a mate makes a wolf vulnerable, weak and unfocused. Why the hell would he want that?

 

\+ + +

 

Taking full advantage of the situation, Peter retreated to his room right after dinner, making himself comfortable in his armchair with a new book and a glass of well-aged bourbon.

Sure, the alcohol doesn’t do much for him; it actually doesn’t have any effect on him at all, but he likes the taste.

He’s just finished the second chapter when his sister suddenly barges into his room, with no a warning whatsoever.

“Ever heard of knocking?” Peter grumbles under his breath, taking another sip of his drink. He doesn’t even bother looking up to acknowledge his Alpha. Of course he knows it’s considered an insult. Then again, when has he ever kept up with werewolf protocol? Only when it suits him …

Being used to it, Talia simply ignores his insubordination and comes right to the point. “I need your help.”

That’s a new one.

Even though it’s obvious (and not just to him) that Talia is a bit swamped with all of her responsibilities, she never asks for help. Peter can hardly fault her for that, though. Pride runs deep in their family; pride and stubbornness.

“Help with what?” Peter prompts, trying his best to sound nonchalant but probably failing miserably.

“A child has gone missing, and we’ve been asked to join the search party.”

“Why? Beacon Hills has a fully staffed sheriff’s department.”

“That’s the thing. It’s the Sheriff’s son.”

“Huh.” Peter comments dryly. Apparently that changes things. He doesn’t know how or why, but clearly it does, otherwise his sister wouldn’t be here. “Isn’t he like 4?”

“Five actually, he is just a few months younger than Cora.”

“Did he run off?”

“No,” Talia replies, curtly, “And before you ask, there were no signs of breaking and entering at the house.”

“So it’s not a kidnapping either …” Peter hums.

“They think he might be sleepwalking.”

“They _think_?” Peter frowns, putting his book and half finished drink down.

“It’s never happened before,” Talia argues on the parent’s behalf. She doesn’t sounds very convincing, though. Clearly, she doesn’t understand it either, that they’d have no knowledge of their son’s condition, habit, whatever, but obviously she is willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. “And it’s the only thing that makes sense …”

Not wanting to waste any more precious time, Talia rattles through the rest of the facts.

Apparently the boy’s name is Stiles; or rather that’s what he prefers to be called. His mother Claudia put him to bed early, shortly after six, because he was running a slight fever and she suspected that he might be coming down with something. When she went to check on him an hour later, he was gone. She didn’t hear him come down the stairs, or sneak out the back door. Naturally, she called her husband at once and they have been searching the area around the house for the last hour, together with a large number of volunteers as well as half of the police department, but to no avail.

The boy seemed to have vanished without leaving a trace whatsoever.

Well, more or less.

Fortunately, one of the search dogs finally managed to pick up the boy’s scent, leading towards the Preserve. That’s when they decided that they would need more help than they already had.

“He made it to the woods without being spotted by anyone?” Peter remarks with a smirk. “That’s more than three miles. I’m impressed.”

“Of course you are,” Talia growls, clearly not amused. Actually, it’s more than obvious that she is slowly but surely losing her patience, or rather, what little she had to begin with. And Peter gets it. As a mother herself she clearly emphasizes with the parents and wants to do everything in her power to help them find their missing child. “I know you don’t care about these people. Just tell me. Are you in or are you out?”

It sounds like she is giving him the option to say no, but her eyes tell a different story. They are blazing red, piercing. She is daring Peter to defy her, to disobey his Alpha’s order, because that’s what it is, an order, not a friendly request.

A part of him wants to do it, wants to defy her, challenge her, because he is curious to find what she would do, if he said no, but for some reason he decides against it. Instead he gets up, huffing, “As if I have a choice…”


	3. Chapter 3

They decide to split up.

Well, actually, that’s Peter’s idea. Just for the record.

Sure, they are both faster on foot than any human, and most animals, but still, it’s a huge area to comb through and the fact that they are unacquainted with the boy’s scent means that they are practically doing this blind. It’s not an impossible task, but the lack of familiarity certainly makes the whole thing a bit harder than it needs to be.

Thankfully, most humans know better and keep away from their property, so the area should be easy to scan for a scent that doesn’t belong there.

Well, in theory.

When Peter volunteers to search the west, Talia doesn’t question him. She readily takes over the east, clearly not caring who goes where, just wanting to find the boy as soon as possible, hopefully still alive and kicking. They agree to meet up south, right where the only road leading towards their house meets Miller Street. They don’t even consider moving north. The boy may have accomplished the impossible, sneaking past a lot houses without being seen, not to mention crossing the main road leading in and out of town without being run over by a car, but Peter doubts that he made it past their house.

Meanwhile Michael stays home with Cora.

Of course he does. Sure, the odds of finding the missing boy sooner rather than later would be a lot better with Talia’s mate helping out, but even though his sister cares about that strange, human child she would never put her own children in harm’s way by leaving them alone, unprotected.

She will always put the safety of her own family first. Always.

And that’s something Peter concurs with one-hundred percent.

 

\+ + +

 

The night is clear.

There are plenty of stars visible in the sky, and so is the moon.

It’s just a sliver, though … which is both a blessing and a curse. If tonight was the full moon, the Hales would be too busy dealing with something else, something far more important to answer an unexpected call for help. On the other hand it would fuel them with more power. It’s not that their abilities aren’t working outside of the full moon, they do, quite perfectly mind you, but the extra boost would come in handy right now.

There is also a slight chill in the air. Sure, it doesn’t bother Peter, but it might become a serious problem for a human child in just his PJs and slippers, which is why he promised Talia to make this quick and efficient. True, unlike his sister he doesn’t really give a damn, but he doesn’t want the kid to die out here, be it from exposure or something else.

He may be a jackass, but he is not a soulless monster.

This is an inconvenience he didn’t ask for, but Peter didn’t just agree to help Talia because he wasn’t in the mood to argue with her. Well, okay, that was definitely part of the reason, but it wasn’t the only one. There was also something else. A nagging feeling that he needs to be out here, looking for the boy instead of sitting at home and letting his sister deal with it all on her own.

It’s a feeling he is pretty familiar with. He gets it from time to time. It’s like an itch he can’t seem to scratch. Most of the time he tries to ignore it, but when he does it always gets stronger, more irritating, right until the point he can’t take it anymore. In fact, it only seems to get better when he yields in some way or another, but he never knows why and how it happens in the first place.

He probably should have told somebody about that, because let’s face it; this is not normal, not even in the supernatural world. Not to mention that uncertainties never sit well him. Peter is the kind of person who always needs to have all the answers, prodding and poking until he gets them. But in this case, he decided to keep his mouth shut. For one, he can’t really put it in words what is happening to him and secondly, he rarely opens up to anybody. Some things are simple too personal to talk about.

So what if that makes him a hypocrite. That’s who he is. Deal with it.

Anyway, Peter is glad that he is _permitted_ to search the west.

Granted, given the fact that he spends a lot of time roaming through the woods, he knows the Preserve probably better than anybody else; but still, he is most familiar with the western part, especially with a certain area of it.

Namely the Nemeton.

The first time Peter stumbled upon the place he was around the same age as Stiles is now; four maybe five, he doesn’t remember that clearly. Both of his parents were still alive, which was a long time ago. Anyway, his mother used to take him on long walks, showing him their territory, making sure he knew all the plants and herbs by name and their purposes, be it medical or something else. He has learned which areas to avoid, places where wolfsbane and mistletoe grow like weeds, but he also knows which areas seem to hold a lot of magic.

Again, namely the Nemeton.

It’s not unknown in the supernatural world. In fact, most druids probably know where and how to find them, including Deaton. But unlike the rest of those sacred trees, this one has been cut down by someone unknown. Peter has his suspicions, though. Hunters don’t only have it out for creatures like him, but for anything that supposedly poses a threat.

Which is completely ludicrous. How could a tree pose a threat to anyone? It’s just a tree.

Well, in theory, anyways.

Even Peter knows there is something special about this one. Of course, he tried to get some information out of Deaton, but like always, their emissary only tends to really answer to the Alpha. He doesn’t exactly turn everyone else down, but he likes to speak in riddles instead of giving straight answers.

It’s very annoying, to say the least.

 

\+ + +

 

Maybe Peter shouldn’t be concentrating on one specific area, but the tingling feeling in the back of his neck tells him that he is heading in the right direction. It may be a nuisance but it has never steered him wrong.

The place seems to have a mind of its own, though. Some days he finds it without actually looking for it, like a magnet pulling him in. On others, he walks around and around in circles for hours, and he never even catches a glimpse of the meadow. It’s almost like a game of hide-and-seek. Like the tree stump only allows him to find it when it suits it.

It’s weird. But what’s even weirder is that there are rarely any animals around, not even birds. They seem to avoid the place like the plaque, like they can feel the magic and are afraid of it. Peter on the other hand doesn’t share the same sentiment. Of course he can feel the power emanating from the tree stump, but he has never been scared of it, only intrigued. Hence his tenacity to seek it out again and again …

The closer Peter gets to the Nemeton the thicker the air gets. The temperature also rises a few degrees. It’s nothing unusual, not really anyway. It always happens to be warmer in the surrounding area.

Even though he is still a few meters away, Peter slows down, treading more carefully. He never knows what to expect, but for some reason this time he feels the need to be extra careful. So far he hasn’t picked up anything, but that changes when the wind suddenly changes direction and a strange smell tingles his nose. It’s not unpleasant, quite the opposite, it makes his wolf whine, roll over and show his belly.

Naturally, Peter ignores it. Not the scent, but his wolf’s pathetic reaction.

Without making any noise whatsoever, Peter rounds the last tree which is blocking his view of the Nemeton and steps into the meadow.

There is someone sitting on the tree stump, and not just on the edge, but right in the middle of it.

It’s the boy. _Stiles._ It has to be him. What are the chances that two boys of the same age, wearing black pajamas with batman logos printed all over it would go missing at the same time?

Slim to none.

So, now that he found him, and much quicker than he thought he would, Peter should probably make his presence known, introduce himself, and then take the boy back to his parents.

It’s what Talia would do. But that’s just the thing. He is not his sister. He may have offered (read: reluctantly agreed) to help, and he did what his sister asked him to do, but he always has his own agenda.

_Always._

Even now, well, especially right here and now.

Sure, at first he didn’t want to leave his room and search the woods for some kid he didn’t know, but now that he has found him, he doesn’t want to leave. There is something weird going on. Finding the boy without actually looking for him, it was too easy. And now that he is here, just a few feet away from him, it feels even weirder, causing Peter to stop in mid-stride.

Don’t take this the wrong way. He is not scared of approaching the human child. That would be ludicrous. He is just stunned. The boy seems to have no reservation whatsoever being that physically close to the Nemeton. In fact, he seems to be quite comfortable.

Well, for the most part.

But even the boy has his back turned towards him and he can’t see his face, the werewolf can tell that the boy had been crying. Fortunately, he seems to have calmed down somewhat, but Peter can still smell his tears. They taste like acid in his mouth, unsettling his wolf to no end. It takes quite the effort, but Peter manages to swallow the growl, threatening to escape his mouth.

It’s true; there is no real distinction between the man and the wolf. A werewolf is both, and not just on a full moon, but every second of every day. But still, sometimes it feels like he is two beings fighting over dominance – one trying his damnedest to act human, the other running on pure instinct. Usually, it’s not a problem to find the balance between the two, but that’s not the case right now. For whatever misguided reason, the wolf longs to close the distance between himself and the boy, to wrap himself around him and lick the tears away, soothing him any way he can, but Peter knows he can’t allow his wolf to take control over the situation. It probably wouldn’t end well, if he did, for neither one of them.

Shaking his head, Peter shushes his wolf and goes back to watching the boy from the tree line.

The sight is rather mesmerizing.

Stiles keeps petting the tree stump lovingly, treating it like someone would do with an injured family member or a wounded pet, while continuously whispering sweet nothings. Or rather, that’s what Peter thinks he is muttering. It’s not that he can’t hear the boy. Thanks to his enhanced senses, the werewolf can pick up each and every word. He just doesn’t understand any of them. They sound like Russian or Polish. Too bad he doesn’t speak either.

All of the sudden the boy turns his head and stares accusingly at Peter with his red, puffy eyes. “Was it you?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Suggestions?


End file.
